Female Japanese Names And Meanings

All because of Leo Cullen’s words, I gave up a place at a top-tier university in Ceres and stayed behind to retake the entrance exams with him—three times. By the fourth year, a girl arrived at our cram school, and Leo forgot the promise we made. He started skipping class, picking fights, smoking—doing everything but studying. One day, I stood at the school gate, blocking his path with a textbook in hand as he tried to ditch class. He smirked, unimpressed, and blew a bubble with his gum, letting it stick to the ends of my hair. “Naomi…,” he began, “who still cares about studying these days?” So I stopped caring and avoided him entirely. When he fooled around in the classroom, I went to the library. When he played basketball, I sat in a quiet corner with my books. Even when I craved noodles from my favorite shop, I’d scan the room first to make sure he wasn’t there. “Are you avoiding me, Naomi?” he asked later, his face in a frown. I shook my head. “Why would you think that?”

My husband, Fabian Hunt, is a neurologist. To spend the rest of his life with his colleague, Yelena Walker, he's been working day and night in the lab for the last three months. Finally, he succeeds in developing an experimental drug that can erase memories. I happen to see his tablet one day. He forgets to log out of his account, so I go through his chat history. Yelena: "Fabe, when can we finally be together without hiding?" Fabian: "Darling, just wait a little longer. Once I switch Anya's vitamin pills for the experimental drug, she'll lose her memory. After that, she'll ask for a divorce herself, and I won't have to take any blame." In an instant, I feel a chill run down my spine. So, he's willing to erase my memories of our time together just to get me to leave him. Since that's the case, I'll give the adulterous pair what they want. But when I start to forget one anniversary after another, Fabian asks me in a panic, "Anya, how can you forget everything about me?"

Everyone says Brandon Foster loves me to the bone. I'm the only one who knows he has a secret lover—a poor student I once sponsored. On our wedding night, he brushed me off with the excuse of needing to entertain the guests. In truth, he was busy fooling around with her. Well, I don't care about that anymore. I have cancer, and my time is running out. I don't expect him and his lover to both lose their minds when they find out, though.

When we were about to head to the amusement park, my Beta boyfriend, Drew, brought along a woman and her daughter. There happened to be one seat short in the car. Drew told me to get out and give my seat to the two of them. “Laura has a kid with her. Let them go first. I’ll come back for you later,” he said. I calmly stepped out and watched as the car slowly pulled away from the pack. Three hours later, they arrived at the amusement park for the fireworks and feast. When a friend asked Drew why he still hadn’t come back to get me, Drew was patiently helping Laura light a giant firework. He wasn’t in a rush at all and even said, “It’ll be fine if I pick Sienna up later. She won’t mind. I’ll coax her a bit, and she’ll stop being mad.” Anger only worked on people who cared about someone. My dad, mom, and brother never cared, and now, not even Drew cared anymore. It was time for me to leave for good.

Beatrice Carbone always knew that life in a mafia family was full of secrets and dangers, but she never imagined she would be forced to pay the highest price: her own future. Upon returning home to Palermo, she discovers that her father, desperate to save his business, has promised her hand to Ryuu Morunaga, the enigmatic and feared heir of one of the cruelest Japanese mafia families. With a cold reputation and a ruthless track record, Ryuu is far from the typical "ideal husband." Beatrice refuses to see herself as the submissive woman destiny has planned for her. Determined to resist, she quickly realizes that in this game of power and betrayal, her only choice might be to become as dangerous as those around her. But amid forced alliances, dark secrets, and an undeniable attraction, Beatrice and Ryuu are swept into a whirlwind of tension and desire. Can she survive this marriage without losing herself? Or will the dangerous world of the Morunagas become both her home and her prison?

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.

By year four of our marriage, Scott had picked up a college girl—Gigi. Bright, beautiful, full of life. She had him, a billionaire, eating street food and chasing after her favorite esports player. Scott called. "Not coming home. Watching Joel Arnoult's match." Beside him, Gigi scoffed. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" They had no clue. The second the call ended, Joel had me pinned in the back of a dimly lit car. His teeth grazed my neck—sharp, teasing, a little painful. "Leila, if I win, how are you gonna reward me?"

Due to one phone call, Carl Lorde left me behind in a deserted area on the highway, even though I had been pregnant for four months. I walked to a rest area to ask for help, but in the end, I was unable to keep the baby. I broke down and called Carl, but he kept rejecting my calls. The next day, his childhood friend posted an intimate photo of them lying side by side in bed, with a caption. [With just one call, you’d come over to my side no matter what.] Everyone was waiting for me, Carl’s girlfriend, to make a joke of myself. However, I just wiped away my tears, liked the post, and commented, [Congratulations, you two are a match made in the trash dump. I hope you rot in hell together.]

Herbert Fischer lets his precious childhood sweetheart dump scalding stew all over me as everyone watches. Worse, he tells me to apologize, all because I said one harsh sentence to her. Tears stream down my face as I ask him, "Is my life worth less than a hair on her head?" He snorts. "Stop overthinking. It's just hot stew—you won't die from a few burns."

In this world, there are more ways to deal with a problem than the problem itself. That applies just as well to cheating men. Rich men, especially, will go to absurd lengths just to have more women in their lives. There's no trick too low, no scheme too shameless. Take my boss, for example. He handed over his stunning mistress to me. Honestly, I suspected he couldn't perform in bed, because she came into my bedroom night after night.